


The Devil Wore Blue, Part II

by Hallianna



Series: The Detective and the Vault Dweller [4]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 13:58:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7621063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hallianna/pseuds/Hallianna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hardest thing in the world for Nick is to come to terms with the line between human and synth.  He's not sure where he falls but he knows what most people think of him.  But Nina, she's different.</p><p>And he'd do anything to protect her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil Wore Blue, Part II

_Valentine had no idea why Three-Finger Johnny Bates was mixed up in a kidnapping, but he had headed down to Johnny’s favorite dive bar to find out._

_Johnny didn’t like that much.  He and Johnny had what you’d call a…..tense relationship._

_The burly gunman had gotten the jump on him and now Valentine found himself hiding behind a Dumpster and hoping the ricochets wouldn’t hit him._

_Adrenaline pumped through his body and his hands shook as he reloaded his gun.  “Piece of shit!” the gunman yelled.  “Nosing in where you don’t belong!  And now you’re dead!”_

_“Yeah, we’ll see who winds up with a bullet hole,” Valentine grumbled as he pulled back the hammer.  “I’m comin’ for ya, Johnny!  I know you’re a criminal but taking a little boy?  That’s low even for you!”_

_Another shot rang out and he heard the gunman growl in frustration.  “Yeah, what do you know, Valentine?  Nothin’!”_

_With a deep breath, Valentine threw himself around the Dumpster and fired.  He didn’t take the second to notice if he missed. He just kept firing._

_When his bullets were gone and his lungs were on fire, there was a body at the end of the alley.  Johnny’s gun was still clutched in his hand and the big man’s newsboy cap had fallen off.  Valentine sighed and tucked his gun away.  “Damn fool,” he said as he approached the body.  “Scumbag and a damn fool.”_

_He rifled through the man’s pockets, grabbing a small notepad and some money from inside his jacket.   The notepad was full of random notes, crudely written, but in the very back was an address._

_“North side of town, near the tracks,” Valentine murmured.  “Might be the place.  Or at least a good start.”_

_He stood and felt a twinge of pain in his shoulder.  He looked down and saw red._

_“Holy shit,” he said, shocked.  “That bastard shot me.”  He looked down at Johnny’s body.  “You fucking bastard.”_

_The walk home was painful and had more than a few people looking at him funny.  By the time he reached his office door, he couldn’t control his shaking.  His vision was hazy and his mouth was dry._

_“Goddammit,” he growled as he fumbled with his keys.  “Come on, open you piece of shit fucking door -”_

_“Valentine?”_

_With a painful turn of his head, he saw her standing at the end of the hallway.  “The devil at my door again,” he said weakly, his knees giving out._

_She rushed to him with a cry.  He collapsed against her, skin waxy, clothes bloody. “Oh, Nick, what happened?”_

_He smiled drunkenly at her.  “That’s the first time in a long while you’ve called me by my first name, doll.”_

_She shook her head.  “You hardheaded son of a bitch.”  She pressed her hand to his wound and he coughed.  “We need to get this taken care of.”_

_He waved at her with a limp hand.  “Afraid I’m going to die on ya?”_

_It was the wrong thing to say and he knew it.  He blamed the blood loss and shock later when he apologized to her.  But right now, it was the only comment on the tip of his tongue.  “Nick, you bastard,” she whispered.  “Don’t you dare leave me.”_

 

* * *

 

Nina dreamed not of bombs and fear, but of Nate.  And Nick.

When she woke, her head was fuzzy.  She remembered not much other than seeing their faces float in front of her, and an odd sense of peace.  Dogmeat was gone, probably back in his doghouse outside where Preston and Deacon had bunked.  The dog had taken to sleeping on her feet every night since Nick had helped her through her nightmares.  Weeks later, the dog rarely left her side when she was at Sanctuary.  She didn’t want to take him out while wandering the Commonwealth; her heart couldn’t take the chance of him getting injured.

She rolled out of bed and onto her feet, stretching and yawning as she looked out the bedroom window.  The sun had just risen, painting the little backyard in swatches of pink, gold, and orange.  For just that brief moment, it felt like a normal day.

She remembered normal days.  And sunshine.  And coffee in the mornings and the sound of her baby crying.  The memory made her heart twitch painfully.

She wasn’t two steps out of her house when she was reminded that there was no “normal” in the Commonwealth.

“General!” Preston yelled as he raced toward her.  “We just got a report from field scouts.  They say Institute synths are congregating near the University District.”  He skidded to a stop in front of her with Hancock, Sturges, and Nick trailing behind him.  Preston puffed out a few heavy breaths, then handed her a stack of handwritten reports.  “And they have a Courser with them.”

“Shit,” Hancock muttered.  “You don’t fuck around with Coursers.”

“Yeah, boss, I don’t know,” Sturges said.  “I know we need a Courser to get into the Institute, but do you think we’re ready right now?”

“We’ve got to try,” she said, sounding more determined than she felt.  She’d only ever shot down a handful of Institute synths, and that was before she’d gotten her hands on a Terminator pistol.  But she doubted even that gun would be useful against a Courser.  Settlers told stories of seeing them roam parts of the Commonwealth.  They donned heavy black leather coats and their eyes were always shaded.  

There was something non-human about them that made people’s skin crawl. Nina wasn’t sure if it was the knowledge of what Coursers did, or the fact that so many people saw all synths, even the human-esque Gen 3s, as machines.

The only thing that bothered Nina was that Coursers didn’t have the freedom of someone like Nick.  They were Institute slaves, capable of only doing their master’s bidding, never knowing anything other than the life of a leashed hunter.

She felt bad for them.  But not enough to spare the life of one if it meant getting that much closer to her son.

Nina looked past Sturges’s shoulder and saw Nick staring at her, yellow eyes narrowed.  She'd taken Nick out with her a lot lately, so much that others had started to talk.  She didn't mind the chatter but she wasn't sure how Nick felt.  It wasn’t like they spoke about it.

They didn’t talk about much when it came to their friendship and the burgeoning _other_ between them.  She felt it all the time - a pulling low in her gut that drew her to Nick like a magnet.  Her North to his South Pole.  

Together they were strange attractors, doing some complex dance around each other where neither knew their parts but they were called to dance anyways.

“How about another adventure, Nick?” Nina asked, watching Preston’s eyes widen.  “One step closer to the Institute.”

“And your son,” the detective added as he stepped around Hancock and Sturges, coming to her side.  “Sounds like a good time.  We takin’ off soon?”

Nina nodded. “Let me talk to Preston a little more.  I want to know everything that the scouts have seen concerning the Courser.”

“Mind if I join you?” Nick asked and Nina shook her head.  “Good.  It can’t hurt to have the advantage of information when we charge in, guns blazing.”

“I’d like to go out with you, General,” Preston said, worry creasing his handsome face.  “I think I should.”

“I’ve got something I need you to do, Preston,” she replied.  “Once Nick and I head out, grab the Minutemen at Red Rocket and come up the back road to University Point.  That way you can cover our backs and if there’s anything worth scavenging, you’ve got people to carry it.”

Preston nodded, reaching into his jacket to unfurl more reports.  “Sounds good.”  He handed the reports to Nina, who passed a handful to Nick.  “So here’s what Octavia saw…”

* * *

 

_The first words Valentine heard when he opened his eyes were not a declaration of relief or even a passable joke._

_But they were endearing._

_“You bastard.”_

_His eyes gritty, his head fuzzy, he craned his neck and saw her sitting in the one chair in the room, about five feet from the bed.  One look told him she hadn’t slept - the red rings around her eyes, smeared mascara, and she was wearing the same clothes he’d bled on._

_“Good to see you too, sweetheart,” he said, voice so rough he winced.  She instantly hopped up and handed him a glass of water.  He took it with a grateful nod and swallowed the whole thing in one gulp._

_“Better?” she asked, taking the glass back._

_“Yeah.”  He looked around the room.  It was your standard hospital room, dull and uninspiring.  There was an IV in his arm and a huge bandage on his left shoulder.  “Christ,” he muttered as he pushed the sleeve of his gown up to get a better look.  “I can’t believe that dirtbag shot me.”_

_“Nick,” she said, tone strained as she put a hand over his.  “You were shot.  While looking for my son.”_

_He looked up at her, curious; her tone of voice sounded tense.  But the lack of expression he saw on her face made him remember all the times he could never get a bead on her emotions.  She was good at hiding the worst, but that also meant when she was feeling good, it didn't show in the way most people would expect._

_But_ **_he_ ** _knew her._

_“Doll,” he said, shifting as much as he could while she leaned heavily on him.  “I’m okay.”_

_She sniffed, turned her head.  “No, Nick.  You’re not.  You chased a two-bit criminal down an alleyway and got shot and I caused that -”_

_“No, you did-”_

_“Yes, I did!”  Her voice rang through the small room.  “I shouldn’t have gotten you involved.  I just thought, after all these years, I could trust you.  But I was wrong to get you mixed up in all this.”  She started to slide off the bed.  “I’m so sorry, Nick.”_

_“Hey,” he said quickly, grabbing her hand with his good one and tugging her back. He felt pain, sharp and hot and nauseating, shoot through him, but he ignored it.  “Hey, get back here.  You need to know something.”_

_She silently climbed back on the bed.  Her small frame curled up, warming him.  He wrapped his hand around hers and tucked it close to his chest.  “I don’t regret anything,” he said as she stared down at him expectantly.  “You understand?  None of it.”_

_“But Nick, you were_ ** _shot_** -”

_He shook his head.  “The only thing I wish was different was you were here because you were wearing my ring.  Not because your son is missing.”_

_She sniffed again, her mouth twisting into a sad smile.  “Some days, I wish I was wearing it, too.”  She looked away.  “I wake up sometimes and wonder what happened.  It seems so long ago.”_

_“Yeah, it does.”  Valentine cleared his throat, squeezing her hand tighter.  “But that’s not our reality, sweetheart.  We gotta live for now.  And the minute I get out of here, I’m going back to looking for your son.”  She opened her mouth to counter him but he stopped her.  “No arguments.  I took the case and Nick Valentine doesn’t drop cases.  Ever.”_

_Her eyes welled with tears.  “I keep thinking the worst. And now you’re here and I just - I just don’t know what to do.”_

_“I’ll be outta here soon, doll.”  He meant to be comforting but her eyes kept flitting back to his IV line.  “Meanwhile, think you can do a little research for me?”  He nodded at his coat, which was hanging on the back of the door.  “I pulled a notepad off Three-Fingered Johnny that had an address in the back of it.  See what you can find on it.  You know, who owns it, any tax history, that kind of stuff.”_

_She got up from the bed and went over to the door, promptly digging around in his coat until she pulled the little notepad free.  It disappeared into her purse.  She turned back to Nick and said, “The nurses said you should be out of here in a day or two, since the bullet passed through cleanly.  I’ll get the info you need but how will it help?”_

_He gave a one-shouldered shrug.  “Right now, I’m not sure. But if my hunch is right, there’s something else going on here.”  He narrowed his eyes, steeling himself to ask the next question.  “I gotta ask, probably should have before now. But this doesn’t have anything to do with that mess your husband got caught up in last year, would it?”_

_Her face pinched in anger.  “I can’t believe you would ask that!”_

_“I’m a detective.  I ask all kinds of uncomfortable questions.”_

_“He’s my husband!”_

_He chuckled dryly.  “You say that like it absolves him of well….everything.”_

_She scoffed and crossed her arms, her whole body rigid.  “I’m not stupid, Nick. I’m not one of those women who never sees her husband’s bad side.  But he’s an accountant, not some lowlife criminal.”_

_He wanted to say, “And they got Capone on tax evasion but he did far worse things,” but decided to hold his tongue instead.  She looked to be building up a head of steam to give him a proper tongue lashing but at that moment, there was a knock at the door.  A petite blonde nurse poked her head in and said softly, “Ms. Porter, the doctor - oh, Mr. Valentine, you’re awake!”_

_She bustled into the room with an efficiency that impressed him, darting around his bed, checking vitals, and clucking at her tongue at the state of his bandages.  “I’ll be right back with a new dressing for you and the doctor will be in shortly.”_

_She waited until the nurse was gone as briskly as she’d appeared.  “That’s my cue,” she said, giving his bed a wide a path as the room allowed.  “I’ll get started on this,” and she shook the notepad.  “Get some rest, Valentine.”_

_“So we’re back to that, eh?” he asked, not surprised.  Time healed a lot of things, but the canyon between them wasn’t so easily traversed._

_It didn’t matter how much he wanted her.  Or, if he was reading her right, she regretted the past._

_What mattered now was the fate of a little boy.  Their relationship, whatever still existed of it, could come later._

 

* * *

 

“Damn!” Nick yelled.  “Bastard’s got me pinned!  You got any clearance on a shot?”

Nina blew out a breath and peeked over the crate she was hiding behind.  They’d had little luck since hitting University Point.  And now the Courser had run off, leaving two heavily armed synths behind to cover him.

And now they were stuck behind crates, shooting blindly at their targets.  “Nick,” she whispered and when he turned his head, she nodded at the crate several feet to their left.  “I’m going that way.”

He nodded.  “Got it.  But be careful - Nina!”

The pain that arced through her body made her sight go black.  She let out a gurgled cry and slumped forward.  “Target acquired,” the synth said as it loomed over her, eyes glowing in a way that made the bottom drop out of her stomach.

The synth raised the baton, readying another strike, when a tan and grey blur lifted the synth off its feet.  “Target this!” Nick said before he disappeared from her sight.  

Nina could barely lift her head but she managed to move enough to see the shock baton and Nick’s gun on the floor.   _Shit, what’s he doing?  Those synths are still above us!_  But she couldn’t cry out.  

Fear twisting her gut, she drew in a shaky breath and painstakingly crawled across the floor.  All she could think about was the danger Nick was in and how she’d gotten them into this mess.  But what she saw made her breath catch for an entirely different reason.  

Growling with fury, Nick pinned the synth to the wall and began punching.  Shots pinged off the metal walls and floors, making Nina wish she could flinch.  But Nick didn’t seem to notice the danger he was in.  His fist landed blow after blow with a sickening sound of squelching flesh and crunching metal.  The third, then fourth punch landed and Nina saw the synth’s head cave in and the light leave its eyes.

When Nick whirled around, she saw anger and concern dashed across his face.  He rushed to her, but she pointed weakly above them.  He changed trajectory, scooped up his gun, and fired two shots without a second glance.  Then he came to her, hat askew and the end of his tie wedged into his trench coat.  

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, soft tone a total contrast from his face.  “Let’s get you up.”

With shaking legs, she stood with his hands under her shoulders.  But her legs didn’t want to hold her up for long, so she collapsed against him.  “Hey, I’ve got you,” he said, carrying them both to the floor.

“The synths,” she said, feeling drool slide down her chin.  

He chuckled, pulling the end of his tie loose and using it to wipe her mouth.  “We don’t have to worry about them.”  At her confused look, he made a gun with his free hand and said, “Pow pow.”

She wanted to laugh but all that came out was a hoarse, muffled sound.  “He scrambled you pretty good.  We’re going to sit here until you get back up on your feet, and then we’re going after that Courser,” he said in response, leaning heavily against the wall and tipping his head back.  At the worried look on her face, he raised his gun and said, “Pow pow, remember?”

Nina shook her head, wishing she could say what she was thinking.

_Thank you for saving me._

_Thank you for putting yourself in the line of fire - AGAIN - for me._

_Thank you for taking care of me._

Instead, she looked up at him with all the emotion she could muster on her face.  He looked at her once, then double-taked and stared down, yellow eyes piercing.  “Any time,” he murmured, running a hand absently over her hair.

Warmth settled in her stomach and she closed her eyes for a few seconds.  The feel of Nick’s good hand stroking her hair would have, in any other situation, put her to sleep.  But it did settle her nerves and as the strength returned to her limbs, she thought again about all the things she wanted to say.

And yet she didn’t actually give them voice.  Nina might have used the excuse of “bad timing” but she knew that wasn’t why she was holding back.  

After everything that had happened, affairs of the heart were not high on her list of concerns.  She’d not built walls around her heart, but had rather neglected a part of it.  Her love for her son and her desire to find him was so strong she thought some days her heart might burst.  But she said little to her companions about him other than her drive to find him and keep him safe.  If she spoke how she really felt, she feared she was hoping too much, aiming too high.  It was probably superstitious, thinking that speaking a few words might turn fate against her, but in the Wasteland, she wasn’t taking any chances.  

But the more time she spent with Nick, the more she wanted to know if she could actually save a part of heart for someone else.  There was no comparison to Nate.  She missed him dearly and always would.  He’d been her foil in so many ways but they’d complimented each other in a way that stabilized their marriage after the turmoil of its early years.  She’d loved that man and yet….he was gone.  No amount of her love could bring him back.

And in some ways, she felt the same about Shaun.  She loved him more than anything else, but love alone wouldn’t bring her son back.

But the man currently holding her might be able to.  Just maybe, with Nick’s help, she could find Shaun and bring him home.  So maybe it was a little hero worship that had her feeling like this now, but underneath all of that ran a current of startlingly honest attraction to a man who looked out for others in the same kind of way Nate had once done.  They were so different, Nick and Nate, but her heart didn’t care.  

So why couldn’t she voice all of this to Nick?  In that moment, Nora swore if she got the chance, she’d find a way to let Nick know.

* * *

 

_A full day after tracking the Courser and shooting it down_

“Hell of a place Hancock’s got here,” Nick said as he and Nina descended into the Third Rail.  “It feels -”

“Right,” Nina finished, smiling when he turned to her.  “Yeah, I noticed that the first time I was here.”  She nodded at the bar.  “And now even Whitechapel Charlie likes me.  Er, tolerates me, I guess.”

Nick chuckled as he sat at the bar.  “That’s more than most.”

She sat beside him, then spun to face Magnolia.  The singer had stepped back onstage after a break, saw Nina, and smiled.  “This one’s for my favorite person.  Doll, you make feel so young again.”

Magnolia launched into a swinging number Nina recognized from her time.  Grinning, she swung back around to the bar and held up a finger.  “Yeah, yeah, keep yer shirt on,” Whitechapel Charlie barked as he poured drinks for a couple of Goodneighbor residents.

Nick smirked. “Yeah, he _really_ likes you.”

She shrugged, hiding a smile.  “Hey, I try.”

“I know you do.”  He looked around.  “We should have brought the whole crew here.”

She snickered, taking the drink that Charlie finally brought over.  Caps tossed on the bar, she threw back the bourbon and slammed the glass down.  Nick whistled at her and she grinned, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.  “What, am I lowering the class of the place?”

He nodded to her overcoat.  “Maybe if you’ve got raider gear on under that thing.”

Nina hopped off the stool.  “Hey, it gets cold at night.  There’s no way I’m walking around in this,” and she slipped the coat from her shoulders, “without a way to keep warm.”

Nick blinked.  One, two, three times.  He wanted to make sure he was seeing things properly.  

He wasn’t the only one completely caught off guard.

Wolf whistles filled the air and even Magnolia stuttered on her last note.  “Yeah, baby!” a ghoul yelled from the battered green couch behind them.

Nina gave Nick a sly smile and walked off, coat hanging from her fingers.  Nick pushed his hat back and watched her.  She was….a vision.  A damn vision.  She’d pulled her hair back in a high bun; not an unusual style for her but he’d figured she’d gussied up a little for the club.  After all, it had been her suggestion that they spend an evening at the Third Rail to decompress after running down those synths in the University District.

But the dress?  That he hadn’t been expecting.

_Though maybe I should have, given what I’ve read of her book._

Nick still felt guilty about that.  He hadn’t found a good way to drop the comment that he’d read it, and liked it.  He wanted to read the rest of it, the mystery of the missing boy eating at him.  The case of Nina’s missing son bothered him to no end, so he wasn’t shocked he reacted so strongly to a fictional boy, no matter how close the subject was to home.

“Come on, Nick,” Nina said, brushing her hand over his arm.  “Dance with me.”

He chuckled, the sound dry and uncomfortable.  He felt too warm, to the point where he pulled at his tie.  “I think that drink went to your head.”

“I’m not a lightweight,” she said, far too close to his ear.  “Dance with me.”  

“Nina, I - “

“Dance with me,” she said one more time, voice softer, even closer to him now, her eyes shining.  Her hand reached for his and he took it.  “Please.”

And he found he couldn’t say no.  She smelled like bourbon and looked like she’d stepped out of her own novel.  The dress hugged her every curve, daring the eye to trace over her hips.  Her lips were painted red.  And in her hair was a blue hubflower.

She looked like a damned dream.  She embodied temptation.  He knew that.  

He’d been tempted for a while now.  

But every time he’d think about taking a step toward her and away from being just some old bot, a voice in his head rang caution that stopped him in his tracks.

_You’re a synth.  You’re not human. You can’t give her what she needs.  She needs flesh, a heartbeat, two working hands._

_You aren’t human._

And yet as he stared at her now, those warnings were silenced.  Her hand was in his and she was smiling softly, looking at him like he was her world.

_It’s just a dance.  Don’t say no to the lady.  You’ll regret it._

He wasn’t sure where the voice of reason had come from, but he was happy for it.  “Yeah, okay,” he finally said, slipping from the stool and letting her guide him to the tiny dance floor.  Only two other couples were swaying softly to Magnolia’s honeyed voice.

Nina claimed the darkest corner for them.

She took his metal hand and putting it on her waist.  “You do know how to dance?” she teased, eyes dark.

“Uh, maybe?” he confessed, letting her pull him close.  “I mean, real Nick-”

“ _Old Nick_.”  Her tone brooked no argument.  “You are real.”  She stepped even closer, forcing him to put his good hand in hers.  Her eyes were dark and he felt the weight of her gaze go right through him, settling somewhere near his mechanical heart.  “I don’t want to hear you say ‘real Nick’ ever again.”

But he knew she wasn’t angry, just concerned.  And maybe feeling a little less constricted after a glass of bourbon.  He couldn’t blame her.  She’d paid for the good stuff.

And yet….

“Say it.”

He shook his head.  “What?”

She closed that little bit of space between them and put her lips on his ear.  A shudder rippled through him and he felt the sudden but brief lick of heat as something sparked inside his chest.  “Say, ‘I’ll never use the words _Real Nick_ again’.  And you better mean it, Valentine, or I’ll know.”

Her breath was warm against his ear and her voice was low and modulated.  He shivered again, this time enjoying the way it traveled through him.  “You making demands of me, Nina?” he asked, not as playfully as he’d meant.

But she liked it.  Her laughter was soft and as he followed her step backwards, he found himself smiling.  That twitch near his heart was back, more evident than ever before.   _She’s going to short something out if she keeps going like this_.

“And what if I am?”

“Well, I’m not sure,” he admitted, mind filling with all kind of possibilities, many of which he wrote off immediately.  But he didn't cut _all_ of them off.  “Exactly what happens if I don’t comply?”

She pulled back just enough for him to see the cheshire grin on her face.  “Oh, I don’t want your compliance, Nick,” she said, voice low and husky.  “I want you of your own free will.”

“To do what?”  He heard the suggestion in her voice, in her words, but his mind was straining to keep up.  Someone in there rattled a memory of Jenny and Real - _Old_ Nick.  

He made the mistake of looking down, more out of embarrassment from the memory reel playing in his head.  

It was a huge mistake.

Heat surged through him as he watched her chest rise and fall. The tops of her breasts flirted with the flimsy gauze draped over the front of the dress.  Lush, dewy skin was all he could see.  

He’d never considered the appeal of breasts before.  No need when you weren’t given them and you weren’t programmed to act upon the desires of humans.  But Old Nick, with his love of women and his appreciation of their beautiful bodies, knew quite a bit about breasts.  And it was all floating to the surface, memories of Nick tangled with a woman, skin slick with sweat, their moans and little cries of pleasure floating through the air.

But a word, said in a whisper, some half-forgotten memory, curled around his brain and cut through all of that.  

“Jenny.”

It shoved past his reluctance and certainty that no one, especially not someone as brave and beautiful and witty as Nina, would want him.  But Jenny had wanted Old Nick and had told him time and time again that yes, he was worthy.  He was true.

 _They_ were right, together.  All she had asked him for was a chance.

And Nina was asking for the same.

He drug his gaze back to her face.  And saw brown eyes and her beautiful nose and a mouth that spoke words of love and concern and honesty purer than anything he’d ever known.

Something blanked in his mind.  He wasn’t sure if his vision went out for a moment, from some overload of information sparking through his wires, or if he really was looking at her like…..

Like…..

_Like a man would_

In that moment, he felt fireworks go off in his brain.  

_Nick and Jenny loved fireworks, every 4th, with their lawn chairs and picnic basket and cheap bottle of wine._

Everything was color and noise and he closed his eyes against the barrage, feeling wires spark and heat surge through him as something _clicked_ into place and he’d never felt so damn right before.

When he opened them, all he saw was her.

“Nick?” she asked tentatively, gripping his hand tight.  “Are you….are you okay?  You looked, well, frozen for a moment.”

“You said you want me,” he reply, tongue thick in his mouth.

Her mouth quirked into a small smile.  “You heard that, huh?”

He let go of her hand long enough to drag his down his face, certain if he could blush, he’d be doing so right now.  Bright as a tomato and hot as the sun, he should be blushing.  And the fact that he couldn’t blush didn’t bother him.  Something so small, so human, seemed inconsequential to him when _she_ was right here, nestled in his arms.

“Yeah, I heard that, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.  “You’re certain about that?”

She didn’t duck her head or bite her lip.  Instead, she looked straight at him, gathered his hand back in hers again, and said, “Yes, Nick.  I want you.  I have for a long time.”


End file.
